


Regaining Focus

by Morgana



Series: Spike's Seven Deadly Sins [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-27
Updated: 2011-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tara gets a look at the aftermath of 'As You Were'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regaining Focus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 7_deadly_sins challenge at LJ - Sloth

Tara kept her head down as she hurried through the cemetery, unwilling to linger despite the bright sunshine that surrounded her. While it might be a lot safer here during the day, she doubted she'd ever feel as comfortable in the graveyard as Buffy and the others. But she'd promised to come, and she couldn't break her word. Tightening her grip on her bookbag, she walked faster, bypassing all the newer graves on her way to the back of the lot, where the high headstones and mausoleums managed to make two in the afternoon feel like midnight all the time.

She paused in front of Spike's crypt and knocked lightly on the door. "Spike?" When there was no answer, she rapped a little harder, wincing as her knuckles connected solidly with the heavy door. "Spike? Are you home?"

The door swung open and a groggy voice drifted out from behind it. "C'mon in, Glinda. Don't wanna stand about lettin' all the sunlight in, yeah?"

Unable to think of a reason to refuse, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. The door clanged shut behind her, a loud thud that made her jump and she automatically summoned a light to her as she turned around. "Whattaya want?"

"Spike?" she whispered, wondering if she'd somehow transported herself back in time to last summer. The vampire looked even worse than he had then, his hair unkempt, deep shadows under his eyes like bruises, his clothes covered in dust and ash, with smears of what looked like soot scattered over his forearms. "Are you - are you okay?"

He shrugged and trudged past her to the battered recliner, leaning over to grab a bottle from the floor as he dropped down into it. Tara took a step forward, her guiding light brightening as she moved, and her hand flew up to her lips to hold back a gasp as she got her first look at the crypt. Broken glass gleamed in the dim light, scattered all around, mingling with chunks of stone and charred pieces of cloth and wood. The place was a mess, there was no denying that, but what really concerned her was that it didn't look like the mess was all that recent.

She'd never expected Spike's crypt to be immaculate - it _was_ a crypt, after all - but he hadn't lived in squalor like this, either. Even last summer, he'd kept it picked up, and while she'd been aware that he spent a fair portion of his days deep in the bottle, the evidence of it had been safely hidden from Dawn's eyes. Looking around now, Tara was glad she hadn't allowed Dawn to come with her like the teenager had wanted to. "Um, I came to see if you were going to the - to Xander's wedding."

"Probably not," was the reply. "Demon bint invited me, but pretty sure she doesn't want the likes of me clutterin' up the reception hall. Figured I'd send a gift an' stay the hell away."

She'd been afraid he'd say that. Biting her lip, she looked around and ventured, "Is everything - I mean, did something come after you? Be-because I'm sure Buffy would help -"

His bark of laughter cut her off. "Wouldn't count on that, pet. Slayer's the one who helped her ex redecorate my place" He gestured expansively with the bottle, liquid sloshing against the sides. "Did a right thorough job, didn't they?"

"Buffy did this?" Tara didn't understand; Buffy had been so upset about her relationship with Spike, but there had been no hint of this kind of anger. If anything, she'd seemed worried, afraid to let go and love him the way Tara thought she wanted to. "Why?"

Spike shrugged again. "Doesn't matter."

She didn't know what to say to that. This was a side of him she'd never seen - he'd spent the summer mourning Buffy, his aura flickering back and forth between deep sorrow and vivid anger at her loss, but the muddy brown swirls around him now were just... wrong. This wasn't Spike's aura, full of the color and life that he no longer possessed; it was the aura of a being that had given up, someone so sunk in apathy that nothing at all mattered.

Tara knew what happened to anyone that decided they didn't care, and she couldn't let that be Spike's fate, if only because she didn't want Dawn to have to lose anyone else she cared about. She sent the light drifting upwards, expanding it until she could see the entire crypt. "You're lucky I don't have afternoon classes," she told him, rummaging around in her bag for a notebook and pencil. "I don't suppose you have a broom or any cleaning supplies?"

"Got blown up, along with everythin' else," he muttered. "Look, Glinda, not that I don't appreciate the offer, but let's face it; place is a dump. 'S a crypt, shouldn't expect it to be -"

"What, comfortable?" Tara didn't look up from the growing list of supplies they'd need. "Spike, you can't live like this."

He scoffed. "Gimme one reason why."

"The same reason you have to come to the wedding on Saturday: Dawn." She looked up at him, watching a stricken expression sweep over his face when she mentioned the younger girl. "She thinks she's done something wrong, did you know that? After you took care of her all summer, she actually asked me today if I thought you didn't love her anymore."

And okay, that might have been a little too far, because Spike looked like she'd just buried a stake in his heart. "I told her of course you did," she assured him. "And you'd dance with her at the wedding to prove it."

"Christ, never thought she'd think - God, talk about makin' a right mess of it," he exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. "If I'd had any idea, I'd've set her straight. You gotta believe me on that, wouldn't let her just walk around not knowin' - not when she's the only one that kept me goin' last summer..."

Tara nodded. "I know. And you kept her going too," she pointed out. "That's why she's so worried; she wouldn't be upset if she didn't care about you." She picked her way carefully through the broken glass to the refrigerator and took the jar of blood out, holding it as carefully as she could to avoid getting blood all over her hands as she carried it back to him. "You need to eat. And then I'll help you get started cleaning up."

"Downstairs is partially done," he said, accepting the jar from her without a word. Tara wondered why he'd started on the downstairs and then given up, but she doubted he'd tell her. Not yet, anyway. Whatever had done this to him, he needed more time before he was ready to talk about it and start healing. She just hoped he didn't lose his head and let the anger and pain that she was sure he'd have to deal with overwhelm him. Maybe she could help with that, though; she could be there for him, to listen and do what she could to help him put his life back together, if he'd let her.


End file.
